


Pizzing Contest

by SnailedIt_O_V



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Betaed by MS Word Read Aloud, Mild Language, wrote it in a day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnailedIt_O_V/pseuds/SnailedIt_O_V
Summary: Pizzicato (adj.): Also known colloquially as “pizzing” (pronounced PIT-sing). A technique that involves plucking the strings of a stringed instrument; the technique varies between instruments.





	Pizzing Contest

      “…And another thing!”

      “Oh, do tell, you uncouth numbskull.”

      “When it comes to instruments, you couldn’t play your way out of a paper bag – too busy lookin’ all pretty and royal and shit.”

      “Well, considering you can’t even make useful sounds with your instrument unless it is plugged in, I do believe I have the advantage over you – not like you are capable of making useful sounds under optimal conditions.”

      Ranmaru and Camus are at it again. Their bickering has gotten so consistently predictable that, to Reiji, the day just didn’t feel complete without a yelling match or two. However, this was the first time that Reiji can remember the two of them directly insulting each other’s instruments. Reiji sighs and tries to focus on the magazine he's flipping through, knowing there's really nothing he can do right now to get the two of them to calm down. Past experience informs him to wait until they've both run out of steam before he jumps in with some silly comment to redirect their attention away from each other.

      “…You wouldn't know the true power of rock if it hit you in the face!”

      “And classical music would never stoop so low as to violently assault random strangers just to be noticed.”

      “Ha, you’re a stranger to rock, alright!”

      “Classical music would not even look at you twice, you indelicate buffoon.”

      Reiji feels the sofa dip next to him and turns to see Ai settling next to him. “This is merely observation, but it seems today that today’s insults are more illogical than usual,” Ai comments quietly.

      Reiji nods. Yes, this argument was definitely taking a strange turn (though nothing beats that one argument they had about bananas), and Reiji knows it’s about time to interject and put today's argument to an end, but how to go about it? Lost in thought, he misses part of the argument until Ranmaru suddenly bangs his palm flat on the table.

      “Fine! If you win, I'll eat fifteen tablespoons of sugar straight, no chaser, all at once.”

      “And if you win?”

      “You’ll eat steak until it comes out of your ears.”

      “Your ridiculous hyperbole aside, I accept.”

      Reiji bolts out of his seat on the sofa. A bet? He shares a look with Ai, who is also getting to his feet. _This is new_ , Ai's expression seems to say, and Reiji would have to agree. This could only mean trouble. He swallows, spins around to face the arguing duo, and does what he always does in tense situations – play dumb.

      “RanRan! Myu-chan! Is this a bet? What are you betting on?”

      Ranmaru scowls. “Fuck off, Reiji. This has nothing to do with you, so stay out of it.”

      “Indeed.” Camus looks down his nose at Reiji. “This is a private matter between Kurosaki and myself. Do not interfere.”

      “It can hardly be called a private matter if you're discussing it in a common area of the apartment at 10.3 decibels above the average speaking volume,” Ai points out.

      Ranmaru spits out an irritated _tch_ and rubs at the frown lines creasing his forehead. Camus crosses his arms and looks distainfully at…well, nowhere in particular, but it’s clear to both Ai and Reiji that he’s avoiding eye contact, which is his way of sulking when he’s cornered. Then Ranmaru looks up, and Reiji has to muster all his self-control not to laugh at the mixture of irritation and resignation competing for space on the rocker’s face. “We made a bet on who could play each other’s styles, ok? I gotta play something not rock, and he’s gotta play something not classical. Whoever does it better wins.”

      “That seems like rather broad parameters,” Ai comments. “Who will determine the outcome?”

      Ranmaru yells, “Me!” and the exact same time Camus declares, “I will.”

      They both glare at each other. “Now, now!” Reiji holds his hands up, trying to soothe the situation, and both glares are redirected at him. “I’m sure we can come to a reasonable solution, ok? Hmm…let me think…What about Ai-Ai and me? Can we judge?”

      “There are only two of you, so if you disagree, it will be a tie,” Camus points out.

      Ranmaru runs his fingers through his hair. “Guess that won’t work.”

      “Ooh, I know! We’ll get our kouhai in on this! That will give you enough people, plus it’s an odd number. What do you say, hmm?”

      “I agree with Reiji,” Ai nods. “It is a sound solution, even if the problem itself is self-inflicted and absurd.”

      “…It’s not the worst idea ever,” Ranmaru grudgingly admits.

      “Yay! It’s settled then.” Reiji pulls out his phone and starts texting. “We’ll give it a week – no, two weeks, more or less, depending on everyone’s schedules. Then you guys will play your selections and we’ll cast our votes. Sounds good?”

      “That will suffice,” Camus says, spinning on his heel and exiting the common area.

      “Works for me,” Ranmaru growls and leaves the common area in the opposite direction.

      Ai watches them leave, then sighs. “This is going to be rather troublesome, isn’t it?”

      Reiji’s concentrating on his phone’s tiny screen, watching for responses, but he nods. “At least the arguing’s stopped for now.” Then he looks up, and Ai rolls his eyes at the big grin spreading across Reiji’s face. “But think about how much fun it’s going to be to listen to them fumble through each other’s styles! I can’t wait now!”

V_@_~~~~_@_V

      The fated showdown day has finally arrived, and one by one the members of STARISH trickle into the practice room that Reiji’s commandeered for the occasion. There are two areas sectioned off by curtains, serving as waiting areas to keep Ranmaru and Camus hidden from the audience and from each other.

      Otoya’s the last one to arrive, stuffing an onigiri in his mouth as he dashes inside. He plunks himself down in an open seat next to Syo, breathless.

      “Did I miss it?”

      “Nope, you’re right on time – ah, you got a little something…” Syo points to the side of his face, and Otoya runs his hand over his own face to catch whatever bits of onigiri are clinging there. Ren leans in between the two of them and picks off a grain of rice Otoya had somehow managed to miss from his face.

      “So, who do you think will come out on top? Personally, my money’s on Ran-chan.”

      “Nah, it’s gonna be Camus-sempai for sure.” Syo states. “As a stringed instrument player myself, I can say for sure that the cello is pretty flexible for playing all kinds of music.”

      “You may be right, Kurusu,” Tokiya interjects, leaning over his other shoulder. “The question lies not with the instrument itself, but with how flexible Camus-sempai is in accommodating a different musical style.”

      “That’s true,” Otoya agrees. “He’s played his cello for some of his recordings, but they all have a sort of…I dunno…classical feel to them, I guess. All smooth and refined, even when it’s an upbeat part.”

      “Well, my money’s still on Ran-chan,” Ren states. He’s about to continue, but suddenly the lights dim. Everyone settles into their seats expectantly as Haruka makes her way to the front of the room, clutching a handful of paper slips.

      “Um…welcome, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. I’ll be hosting this competition, so, uh…this is how it will go. Kurosaki-sempai and Camus-sempai will each play a song as close to each other’s style as possible. Neither of them knows what song the other has chosen. When they are finished, each of you will fill out these ballots that I’ll pass out, and then I’ll collect them. Kotobuki-sempai and Mikaze-sempai will watch me sort them, and whoever has the most votes will be declared the winner. According to Kotobuki-sempai, the conditions are…” She consults a small piece of paper “…if Camus-sempai wins, Kurosaki-sempai will have to eat fifteen consecutive tablespoons of sugar. If Kurosaki-sempai wins, Camus-sempai will have to eat a fifteen-ounce steak in one sitting.” She wrinkles her nose delicately but continues. “There are two criteria for judging – first: who executed their piece the best, on a technical level; and second: who played in a style that best matched the competition. You can write down one name for one criterion and a different name for the other, if you want. Um, I think that’s it. I’ll pass these out now. Mikaze-sempai, are the others ready to go?” She turns to Ai, who's standing next to one of the curtained areas.

      “I believe so," Ai replies. "They just finished fighting over a coin toss to decide who will go first, and I believe Ranmaru won that privilege-”

      “Damn straight!” comes Ranmaru’s voice from behind the curtain. There’s a small scraping sound and a grunt, then Ranmaru makes his appearance. But rather than sauntering out with his electric bass and amp, he edges out _backwards_ from behind the curtain, leaning backwards to counterbalance the enormous upright bass he’s carrying. To make the spectacle even more astonishing, Ranmaru has exchanged his leather jacket and tight pants for an elegant tuxedo. His hair is parted to one side and slicked down, though the ends of his hair rebelliously flick up in little spiky tufts. When he settles into position, the room is silent.

      Ren is the first to break the silence – with a snicker.

      “Ran-chan, of all the things I’ve seen you do for the sake of rock-” Ren’s snicker turns into full-blown laughter, and even Masato is having a hard time keeping a straight face. “Can you even play that thing?”

      “Shut it, Ren,” Ranmaru growls, pointing his bow at Ren. “I always give it my all at a performance, no matter what. And just so you know, yes, I can play this thing, more or less. Had to learn how to get the bowing right, but the fingering for this thing and the electric bass are the same."

      Ren pulls out his phone and sets it to record. “This is gonna be gold!” He whispers to Tokiya, who only rolls his eyes.

      Ranmaru squares his shoulders and raises his bow. As his bow hovers over the strings, Syo’s eyes widen and he scrambles to dig his phone out of his pocket, accidentally elbowing Otoya in the ribs. He flicks his phone on to send Natsuki a text but sees Natsuki has beaten him to it.

      _He’s holding his bow German-style!_

      Syo texts back, grinning.

_I know, right?!?! Where’d he learn to do that?!!_

      The whole room holds its breath, waiting to hear the opening strains of Ranmaru’s chosen piece. With a downbow and a slide up the A string, Ranmaru begins playing a familiar tune. Most of STARISH, with the exception of Cecil and Otoya, have heard this piece before in some way, but it’s Syo who recognizes it first. He texts Natsuki for confirmation of his guess, then slips his phone into his pocket to watch Ranmaru with full attention.

      It’s not a particularly difficult piece, but it’s challenging for a beginner, especially for someone not used to bowing. Everyone’s eyes are glued on Ranmaru as he valiantly plays through the piece, but both Natsuki and Syo watch with the eyes of professionals, making mental notes of his fingering positions, his bowing, his posture. He’s not perfect – his accented notes are too strong, he is virtually incapable of incorporating vibrato into his sustained notes, and his bow tends to angle down towards the bridge. He drops notes and loses his place in the music at least once, though it’s impressive that he's made the effort to memorize it.

      When the final notes fade away, everyone jumps to their feet, whistling and clapping. Cecil stands on tiptoe to reach Natsuki’s ear and asks over the din, “What was that song? I don’t recognize it, but I really liked it.” Natsuki bends down to reach Cecil’s ear and says, “It’s called ‘Elephants’ from a suite called ‘Carnival of the Animals’. Definitely classical music.” He straightens and lets out a whoop of appreciation, and Cecil joins him.

      Ranmaru’s breathing hard from exertion and anxiety – who knew playing the double bass could be so taxing? But if his audience’s response is any indication, all his hard work over the last two weeks, despite his busy schedule, has definitely paid off. _Can’t relax yet though_ , he reminds himself. _Gotta beat that smug bastard first_. He really doesn’t want to eat all that sugar. He holds the double bass as firmly as his sweaty palm will let him and takes a deep bow, garnering more applause and whistles, with a “Ran-chan, marry me!” coming from Ren because Ren is an ass.

      Haruka walks up as Ranmaru carries the bass back behind the curtain. “Thank you, Kurosaki-sempai. Now we will have Camus-sempai take the stage.”

      She sits back down, and Camus’s curtained partition rustles, revealing – someone who looks an awful lot like Camus, but couldn’t possibly be him. For one thing, Camus would never, _ever_ , EVER wear plaid. Or ripped, lightwashed demim jeans. His hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and a few strands come loose as he positions his stool and adjusts the length of his cello’s endpin.

      “I was kind of hoping he’d come out with a guitar or something,” Otoya whispers to Syo, who nods in response. After seeing Ranmaru putting the effort into playing a totally different instrument, Syo’s confidence in Camus’s ability to beat Ranmaru wavers a little. However, despite the unusual get-up, Camus exudes nothing but confidence, and Syo allows himself to breathe.

      Camus bounces his bow on the strings, testing the tension, then takes a deep breath. The room goes silent once more as Camus begins. Syo’s eyes nearly drop out of their sockets and Otoya sits up in his chair as Camus lets loose a rapid set of groovy-sounding double stops – this is on a whole different level than what everyone is used to hearing Camus play. More than that, Syo can’t recall ever hearing this piece – did Camus write a whole new song just for this contest? No, with the amount of work he has to do as an idol, not even Camus would be able to squeeze out a new song so far removed from his usual genre.

      Behind and to the right of Syo, Natsuki’s having trouble keeping his jaw from hitting the floor. Despite the deliberate roughness infused in the piece, the wrist of Camus’s bow hand remains supple and flexible. Though his fingertips dig into the strings on the fingerboard with unusual aggressiveness, he lands all the double stops with pitch perfect precision. Natsuki can only imagine the challenge Camus faced in playing such a rough-sounding piece with his ingrained elegance fighting for control. Even now, that ingrained elegance shows itself in certain sections where quiet turns into finesse and slow turns into graceful, though both styles have no place in this piece. Despite the effort Camus is clearly putting into playing, Natsuki wonders if Camus is really capable of infusing the piece with the same level of power Ranmaru pours into his rock music. Under Camus's touch, it lacks that certain edge it requires for it to truly live up to its potential as a power-driven, testosterone-riddled cello piece.

      Camus ends the piece with a slow double stop slide up the neck and lifts his bow off the strings with a flourish. More hair has slipped from his ponytail and his eyes have a slightly wild look to them that no one ever remembers seeing before. It’s only for a moment though, as Camus suddenly seems to remember himself when the sound of applause and whistles wash over him. He stands and bows, waiting for the applause to die down. “I feel I should explain this piece a little,” he begins, employing his butler persona out of habit when facing an audience.

      “Can the butler act, Camus!” Ranmaru roars from the back of the room. He’s sulking – he’s pretty sure Camus has got this contest in the bag, and his plastic public persona, fake as vegan cheese, is the last thing Ranmaru wants to hear grating on his ears.

      Camus clears his throat. “Right,” he begins again. “All I wished to say was that this piece is called ‘Truckin’ Through the South’ and was written by Aaron Minsky. It is perhaps the most undignified piece of music I have ever played, and I feel my cello will never recover from being abused in this way.” Ren rolls his eyes, and Masato shoots him a glance that tells him to settle down and behave. “Nevertheless, it is my wish that it met with your satisfaction and expectations for this contest.” He bows again, picks up the stool, and walks toward his curtained area to store his belongings.

      “And with that,” Haruka states, stepping up to the front once more, “please fill out your ballots according to who played technically better and who played closest to the other’s style. When you’re done, hold up your ballot and I’ll come collect it.”

      There’s a murmur of voices as the members of STARISH discuss their options among themselves before making individual decisions. Reiji and Ai also fill out their ballots and, one by one, Haruka collects them in a small basket. Motioning for Reiji and Ai to come help, Haruka pulls out an easel with a giant pad of paper on it and draws two T-charts, one above the other. The first she marks “Technique” and the second she marks “Style”. After filling in Ranmaru’s and Camus’s names on either side of the two T-charts, she hands the pens to Reiji and Ai and starts reading ballots.

      “One for style, Kurosaki-sempai. One for technique, Camus-sempai.”

      Reiji marks Ranmaru’s score on one side, while Ai marks Camus’s score on the other.

      “One for style, Kurosaki-sempai, one for technique, Kurosaki-sempai.”

      And so it goes – Haruka reading off ballots, Reiji and Ai marking scores. Camus leans against the back wall with Ranmaru, waiting it out. “Who knew this would turn into such a big production, eh?” Ranmaru mutters under his breath, but there’s no malice there.

      “Indeed.” Camus agrees. “It was…interesting to explore a genre atypical from my usual inclinations.”

      “Yeah…bowing is really hard, you know? It’s like, my fingers know what they want to do, but the bow’s in the way. That was hard to get used to.” Ranmaru admits.

      “Are you going soft on me?” Camus raises an eyebrow.

      “No!” Ranmaru grumps defensively, then lowers his voice when he sees Natsuki and Cecil turn their heads in his direction.

      “It’s just…it’s a new experience for me too, ok? Let’s leave it at that.”

      “You say that now,” Camus says, “but you’ll be singing a different tune when I’m watching you choke down fifteen generous tablespoons of sugar.”

      “You bastard! You just watch – I might just accidentally choose a cut that weighs on the heavy side of fifteen ounces.”

      “Thank you for waiting, everyone!” Haruka’s voice cuts their budding argument short. “As you can see, Camus-sempai scored the highest in the technique section, while Kurosaki-sempai scored the highest in the style section. I’ve had Kotobuki-sempai and Mikaze-sempai double-check the overall total score, and the final result is…”

      Everyone, including Ranmaru and Camus, holds their breath.

      “…it’s a tie.”

      Silence.

      "What the fuck was all this for, then!” Ranmaru yells, throwing his hands in the air.

      A deep frown furrows Camus’s forehead. “This clearly has not solved anything. We will have to attempt some other resolution to determine who has better mastery over music.”

      “What about the conditions?” Masato queries. Everyone turns to look at him, and he in turn gestures to the easel. “Technically, they both won at some level, which means that technically, they must face each other’s consequences.”

      Ren bursts out laughing. “He’s got you there, Ran-chan.”

      Ranmaru and Camus look at each other. Camus allows a rather undignified grimace to take over his face, while Ranmaru eloquently phrases a sentiment that, for once, they both share wholeheartedly.

      “Aw, shit…”

 

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Author's Note:**

> And the sad thing is that neither song actually requires pizzicato.
> 
> Tiny update Jun14/18: It just occurred to me that I might have messed up horribly because I never checked to see if Ranmaru plays a 4-, 5-, or 6-string bass, which would have affected how believable this fic is. Turns out, I was worrying over nothing! From everything I can find (and someone correct me if I'm wrong) Ranmaru plays a 4-string bass, so unless he uses some weird tuning scheme, the fingering techniques for his electric bass and the double bass are exactly the same, since both instruments use the same four strings - E, A, D, G. Yay for inadvertent authenticity(ish)! _@_V


End file.
